Out of One's Mind
by Fishy Smell
Summary: The war is over. Or at least, almost. Voldemort is dead, but one horrocrux can change that. The ministry believes that Draco Malfoy might know where it is being kept. But unfortunately... Draco Malfoy has no memories. Harry Potter is given the task of res
1. Prologue

Title: Out of One's Mind  
Rating: probably R - maybe NC-17  
Paring: Harry/Draco  
Warnings: Well, none I think. m/m, duh  
Disclaimer: I don't own them, J.K Rowling do.  
Beta: the amazing **jemalfoy**!

Summary: The war is over. Or at least, almost. Voldemort is dead, but one horrocrux can change that. The ministry believes that Draco Malfoy might know where it is being kept. But unfortunately... Draco Malfoy has no memories.  
Harry Potter is given the task of restoring the young Malfoy's memories. Though, Harry is not happy with the arrangements.

Out of One's Mind

Prologue.

"It's over… I can't believe it's over."

Just outside the gates of Hogwarts, a place that was so much more than a school, one boy – man – closed his emerald eyes and held his breath.

Because by closing his eyes he didn't have to see the dead bodies and if he didn't breathe he couldn't smell the burnt flesh that he knew would haunt him forever.

The grip on his wand loosened and it fell to the black ground.

Because if he just stood where he was, not listening to the screams, not smelling the death, not seeing the mass grave before him, then maybe… maybe he could pretend that there was peace.

---

He knew that he couldn't just stand there. He should check for survivors, preventing more death.

His instinct told him to open his eyes, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody's voice roared inside him.

Harry opened his eyes, sucked in a shallow breath, and was from all angels assaulted by death. But he didn't falter. He was used to it after all.

Letting out a humourless chuckle, the Boy Who Lived started to make his way through the scattered bodies lying on the black grass, forcing himself to ignore it when he accidentally stepped on something soft.

He stumbled; his wounded leg couldn't find his balance again, so he fell.

Bracing his fall with his hands, he never came in full contact with the ground even though the sharp pain that shot up his arms made him doubt it was better.

Taking a deep breath, he started to rise again, casting a quick glance at the still body before him. He stopped. Seamus.

His sandy hair was full of dirt, making it almost grey and his blue eyes gazed at the sky. Lifeless.

Giving a pained moan, Harry closed his friend's eyes before struggling to stand once again. He continued to walk, ignoring his injured leg.

"Harry!"

His head snapped up and turned to the direction of the voice. "Ron!"

Red hair. His friend was sitting on the ground, cradling a body to his chest, with brown curly hair. Harry ran, leg forgotten.

In his haste to reach the two people that had come to mean the world to him, Harry once again stumbled over a body. Though this time he managed to find his balance before he fell and he kept running, not even glancing at the fallen white-blond haired boy.

"Harry!" Ron's panicked voice rang out a second time. "You have to get help! She's barely breathing!"

Falling to his knees in front of the read head, Harry gulped in some air. "Where's…wand?"

Ron moved his agonised gaze from his fiancé, "What?"

"Your wand! Send up red sparks!"

Quickly locating his wand in his robes Ron sent up the red sparks of hope, looking crushed because he hadn't thought of it earlier.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry moved closer to his friends, one hand touching Hermione's pale cheek.

And at the sound of the aurors apparating, Harry put a hand on his sobbing friend's shoulder, "It'll be alright now," he choked, "everything will be alright now."


	2. Chapter 1

Out of One's Mind

Chapter I

Two weeks later.

He'd never really liked hospitals. Sure, he'd been in the hospital wing at Hogwarts more times than he could count, but in many ways St. Mungos was so very different from that.

It was big, clinical and well, white, for lack of better words. He just didn't like it, gave him an uneasy feeling.

He shuddered.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione laughed, "you _can _go home if you want to. I'm practically fine."

Harry smiled guilty, he'd been caught. "It isn't that bad," he defended himself.

Casting a glance towards the door, he leaned closer to her, "Though, I don't like your doctor."

"Healer," Ron automatically corrected.

Harry gave him the finger.

Ron gasped like a true drama queen.

Hermione laughed, "Oh please, Harry. He's a very nice guy."

He made a face, "Yes, he might be, but I don't like him."

"You don't like any healers except Madame Pomfrey, mate."

True, Harry thought. He had no idea of why he disliked doctors. If he was to be honest he only said that to annoy Ron. It was something that he'd brought with him from the Dursleys he supposed. He'd never liked the doctors which he was forced to go to as a kid.

Though, that may have been the Dursley's fault and not the doctor's. But it didn't matter now. He simply didn't like them and he was fine with that.

So with another meaningful look from Hermione, the black haired boy rose from his seat. "Well I guess I'll be going then."

"Okay, Harry. Take care now." Hermione smiled.

"Yeah, take it easy now, mate," Ron said as he stood up to give Harry a friendly pat on the back.

"Of course I will." Harry grinned, bent down to hug Hermione where she sat propped up by a huge amount of pillows before making his way towards the exit. "Bye guys!"

---

He didn't really feel like going home just yet so he decided to make a short visit to Andy's, a small but cosy little café which he'd stumbled upon during a very rainy day.

A little bell tinkled when he stepped through the door, reminding the employees that they had a new customer.

He didn't have a cloak on; the weather was after all, lovely, so he chose a small table by the window and sat down before it.

"Can I take your order?" a voice came from behind.

Turning his head to face the waitress, Harry looked into the face of a young man.

"Yes, please. I'd –"

"Harry!"

Looking in the direction of the voice, he located a small girl his age, with brown hair that flowed down her back in smooth curls. Her chocolate brown eyes radiated happiness as he met her gaze with a wide smile matching her own.

"Hello, Maya," he greeted and playfully pretended to take off his hat.

Laughing at his antics, she rounded the bar and made her way towards him.

"I'll take care of this one, Andrew." She smiled at her colleague, who gave a half glare back but mumbled 'okay' before going to another table.

Turning back to Harry, she gave him a huge smile, "Couldn't get enough yesterday either, could you, Harry?"

Laughing at the wink he received from her he winked back, "Nah, you know me. I never get enough."

She patted him on the head. "From all that I'm guessing that you want your usual order then."

"You know me so well, it's almost touching," he faked, putting a hand over his heart.

"Yes, yes, you big clown," she laughed. "Your order is coming right up!"

Smiling to himself when she retreated behind the bar, Harry returned his gaze to the window or rather to the people walking outside of it.

She was a nice girl Maya, happy and relaxed. Something he wasn't use to in girls. Hell, he wasn't used to girls at all; Cho was a disaster after all. Ginny had been different, but they'd discovered that a brother/sister relationship had worked out better than their relationship ever had, so they never got back together.

Maya was different, even if he hadn't known her long, around a week and a half maybe, but he liked her. She didn't seem to care that he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Defeated Voldemort; she just treated him like Harry and that was attractive.

Probably what got him interested, he mused.

"There you go, one black with sugar."

"Lovely," he thanked her. "No chance in you sitting down for a while?"

She bit her lip, "I'm sorry, Harry." And she did look sorry. "I can't. I promised Andrew to clean the kitchen for him if he did it for me last week."

"Now?" he asked. "But you served me, didn't you?"

She smiled. "Yes, but that was an exception. Now I have to get back to the dirty kitchen. It was nice to talk to you Harry, as always."

"Same Maya, I hope I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, we all hope that." She winked before returning to the kitchen.

Sighing in his coffee mug, Harry once again scolded himself for not having the guts to ask her out. It shouldn't be that hard. He was pretty sure that she would say yes, but he didn't know what to do on a date. So by not knowing what he was asking for, he created the whole asking-for-a-date problem.

Taking another sip from his coffee, Harry enjoyed the warm feeling that it brought with it, filling his whole chest with comfortable warmth.

He admitted that he'd become a somewhat of a coffee addict, probably from all the coffee he'd consumed during all the late study nights with his friends. Now, he had to have it during the morning to function at all. And if he got the chance to drink a cup during the day, he wouldn't say no to that either. He was sitting in a coffee shop right now, after all.

Draining what was left of his dark liquid of pleasure, except what was at the bottom, Harry rose from his seat. Having already said goodbye to Maya he directly made his way to the exit.

Looking at his watch he saw that it was beginning to get late, 5:00. Still, it was the end of June, the sun had yet to go down, and so it was as light as ever on the streets.

Beginning to make his way home, Harry decided to take a detour through the park.

After one year of intensive training, studying, and war. After one year of fighting in said war, he had come to appreciate the beauty of things. Nothing special, he just found himself enjoying things like the blue sky or the green grass on different levels than he ever had during his school days.

He turned right on the little gravel path.

A few children were playing on the swings. Harry smiled at their cheerful happiness; they needed so little to crack a smile, seeing them laugh like nothing was wrong in the world made him feel like it really could be restored.

"Excuse me, mister!" a trembling voice addressed him.

Looking down, he saw a small blonde haired girl; she couldn't be older than five, standing there with tears in her eyes.

"Hi there," Harry said as he lowered himself to her level. "Can I help you?"

Nodding, she pointed at a tree behind him, "Sara got stuck in the tree when we were playing. Can you please bring her to me?" she asked him as a tear rolled down her cheek.

He was confused. "How did your friend climb up there?" The tree was rather tall after all and no branches where in a small girl's reach.

"She didn't climb," the girl answered, giving him an astonished look. "We were throwing her in the air."

Ah, now everything clicked, it was a doll. He should have known. In the back of his mind Harry was surprised how good she talked, or maybe he just didn't know anything about kids.

"No need to be sad, I'll bring her down," he promised the crying girl.

She looked expectantly at him.

Standing up again, Harry turned towards the tree; it didn't look like an impossible task. Grabbing a branch, Harry pilled himself up on it, hoping for it to hold his weight.

'What you do for the kids," he thought as he grabbed another branch and climbed higher up.

Ah, there it was; a cute little blonde doll with a red dress. Taking hold of it with his left hand, Harry kept his balance with the other one.

Climbing down again with the doll in a safe grip he turned to the little girl, smiling at the hopeful look in her eyes.

"Did you bring her down?"

"Of course I did. Sara is very happy to see you," he said as he handed the doll over.

A huge smile formed in the girl's face, her tears forgotten. "Thank you so much, mister!" she screamed as she hugged her doll to her chest.

"No need, kid," Harry answered as he patted her lightly on the head.

Giving him one last smile, the girl ran back to her friends; whispering something and pointing at Harry and then at her doll.

Waving at her and her friends Harry took up his walk through the park, a smile gracing his face the whole way home.

---

Turning the key in the lock Harry opened the door to his apartment.

He'd never really liked Godric's Hollow. He always felt like he should remember so much about that place, but he didn't have one single memory of it. It didn't feel like home. And it was too big for him. That's why he'd chosen to get his own little apartment, nothing fancy. A kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom, a small hall and a living room, he didn't need more.

Stepping into the kitchen, Harry started to prepare coffee to drink while reading the Daily Prophet which lay on his kitchen table.

Opening the window, Harry took a deep breath of fresh air while listening to the comforting simmering of the coffeemaker.

'Hedwig has been gone for a long time now' Harry thought as he gazed at the sky. He wasn't worried, no it wasn't strange if she stayed away a couple of days, he just missed her.

Grabbing the paper from the table he looked at the first page.

_The Boy Who Lived Secures Our Future!_

He snorted. After two weeks he still made the front page. Hopefully they would tire soon.

'Not likely' Harry thought with annoyance.

Putting down the newspaper, he turned to a cabinet and brought forth his favourite coffee mug, a beige-cream coloured one which he'd received from Mrs. Weasley.

He poured some coffee into it and then sat down by the table.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he opened the paper, ignoring the first pages about himself and how he'd defeated Voldemort. He'd never given an interview, so in a way he was impressed with Rita for writing a story with barely any information to go on. Not that he should be surprised anymore, but he couldn't help it.

He turned the page again.

The dementors were still free, prowling the forests. He skipped that part too, he knew enough about it. He'd meet enough of them while fighting the war.

He turned the page again and promptly choked on his coffee.

The head line said: _Severus_ _Snape Has Been Found! _

Rage boiled up inside of Harry. It had been almost a year since Dumbledore's death, but it was still fresh in his mind.

With anxious eyes, he scanned down the page.

It seemed as though the Ministry believed that Snape was hiding information about where the last horocrux was to be located, as well as the last Death Eaters.

'Yes,' Harry thought bitterly, 'the last horcrux.' Sure Voldemort had been destroyed, but he'd never succeeded in finding the last piece of his soul. If the Death Eaters got their hands on it first, Voldemort could be restored. Harry knew all that and he knew that the Ministry wanted him to search for it.

But he'd done his part in the whole. He'd killed Voldemort. Now the Ministry had to do the rest.

More than slightly annoyed, he continued to read.

Seems like they had a hard time trying to pry information out of the slimy git, Veritaserum didn't work on him.

'Big surprise,' Harry thought dryly. Snape was a potion master after all, he'd probably taken some sort of antidote.

The next part though, was not what he'd expected.

_Due to the fact that Mr. Snape is resistant to concede information, he is to be sent to Azkaban. _

"What!" Harry screamed, dropping his cup, not caring about the coffee that spilled onto the table.

"Snape deserves a harder punishment than that!" Harry roared in anger. Azkaban was still working as a prison, just without the dementors. People like Snape deserved the kiss. He knew it was cruel to think that, but quite frankly, he didn't care. The former potion master deserved to die.

Closing the paper, no able to read any more, Harry rose up to fetch a rag to clean up the spilt coffee.

Wetting the rag in the sink, he leaned his forehead against the cabinet above it.

"How can they let him live? So what if he sits on information! The old git will never let go of it." Harry snarled to the empty room with such venom that it made his shoulders tremble.

He took a deep breath and then proceeded with cleaning up the table and then throwing the rag back into the sink.

He was just going to sit down on his sofa to grumble when something tapped on his window.

'Hedwig,' was his first thought, but it wasn't.

"You're a Ministry owl," he mumbled when he saw the seal on the letter.

Opening the window, he took the letter; not offering any treats to the owl, though it seemed the bird wasn't expecting them anyhow because it promptly turned and flew away.

Leaving the window open, in case Hedwig would return, he retreated to the sofa and opened the letter.

_Dear Mr. Potter_

_Your presence is requested in my office, June 25 at 08:00 am._

_It is urgent. _

_Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic. _

'Scrimgeour? What the hell does he want now?' Harry thought, more than highly annoyed at this point. The Minister never asked for anything from him unless it was important, which the letter said clearly that it was.

Sighing, he decided to show up tomorrow seeing as how there would be such a great fuss about it if he didn't. Whatever Scrimgeour had planned for him, he wouldn't do it. No way.

That night Harry slept troubled.

End of Chapter I


	3. Chapter 2

Title: Out of One's Mind  
Rating: probably R - maybe NC-17  
Paring: Harry/Draco  
Warnings: Well, none I think. m/m, duh  
Disclaimer: I don't own them, J.K Rowling do.  
Beta: the amazing **jemalfoy**!

Summary: The war is over. Or at least, almost. Voldemort is dead, but one horrocrux can change that. The ministry believes that Draco Malfoy might know where it is being kept. But unfortunately... Draco Malfoy has no memories.  
Harry Potter is given the task of restoring the young Malfoy's memories. Though, Harry is not happy with the arrangements.

Out of One's Mind

Chapter 2

Waking up, Harry decided, was not a pleasant experience. Especially not at, he glanced at the clock and groaned, 6.30 in the morning.

Reaching out a hand he tried to locate his alarm clock on the bedside table, but to no avail.

Retracting his arm under the warm covers, Harry let out an outdrawn whine, scolding himself at the same time for being so damn smart. He just had to move the clock further away last night, to prevent him from sleeping in.

His action, unfortunately, didn't look as bright now as it did yesterday.

Sitting up, Harry rubbed his tired eyes while his poor ears protested against the shrill sound of the alarm.

Running a hand through is messy hair he glared at his red alarm clock. Once again promising himself that he'd get a new one as soon as he could, knowing that he never would remember it.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he put his arms in the air and stretched. He let out a long groan as his shoulders let out a satisfied 'crack'.

He hadn't dreamt anything last night, fortunately. He'd lost enough sleep that way. Even if Voldemort had been killed, the link between them with it, he was still plagued with normal nightmares or twisted memories.

Covering his mouth with his hand, Harry let out a yawn. He really hated mornings.

Rising form the comfortable bed he slowly made his way into the bathroom, shutting off the alarm clock on his way.

---

Harry shuddered and tried to rub some warmth into his cold arms. It was the beginning of summer and in the middle of the day it was wonderful but the mornings were still quite chilly.

Breathing a sigh of relief when the broken-down red telephone box started to move, Harry hugged himself tighter. "Finally," he breathed.

Humming quietly to himself, just for lack of anything to do, Harry waited for the short ride down to the ministry to be over.

The phone box lift came to a stop and he made his way into the Atrium. He was greeted with the sight of a very busy crowd of people, the flames in the fireplaces lining the left side of the hall were almost constantly green, swallowing and spitting out wizards and witches.

Moving down the hall, Harry was grateful for the mass of people everywhere; he really didn't feel like drawing any attention.

Making his way through the crowd, Harry stopped in front of The Fountain of Magical Brethren, smiling at the gold statues. The house-elf always did remind him of Dobby and Hermione's SPEW.

Digging in his pocked Harry fished up three galleons and tossed them into the fountain, he knew that the money was being donated to St. Mungos and he always made sure that he tossed in couple of galleons every time he visited the Ministry.

"Show your wand, please." A tired voice greeted him as he reached the security stand at the end of the Atrium.

Bringing fourth his wand from its usual place in the back pocked of his jeans, Harry handed it over to Eric Munch. He knew that he shouldn't keep it in his pocket; Moody always told him that it could be his death one day, but it had become a habit. No mater how many times he told himself that he wouldn't put it there again, the wand always returned to his back pocket. It was almost like magic.

Snickering to himself, Harry handed over his wand, took it back when it had been clarified that he was indeed Harry Potter, completely ignored Eric's awed expression and made his way through the Golden Gates.

He immediately made his way into a crowded lift, barely managing to squeeze himself into it, but too impatient to wait for the next one.

One after one people emptied from the small claustrophobic lift, leaving only Harry, a strict looking woman, and a short little wizard with a yellow hat left.

Seeing his floor come up on the display, Harry quickly pushed the stop button, receiving a glare from the lady as he reached past her. Mentally rolling his eyes, Harry made his way out of the lift, giving a huge sigh as the doors hissed closed behind him. He hated lifts, he didn't have any problem with the confined space, the years spent in his cupboard had made him used to it after all; he just hated the famous and oh-so-awkward elevator silence.

_Harry mused on what the Minister could possibly want from him as he let his legs carry him through the corridor._ It couldn't be about the last horocrux, but he'd made it clear that he didn't want to track it down now when Voldemort was gone.

As far as he knew, none of his friends were hurt and if that was the case why would it be the Minister informing him?

Shoving all thoughts away, Harry came to a stop before Scrimgeour's office, knocked a few times, and entered as the Minister told him to come in.

"Remus?" Harry asked surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Smiling at him, Remus rose from his chair and gave him a short, but familiar hug. "Scrimgeour asked me and Alastor to come with you."

He hadn't noticed Moody at first, but now that he looked, he spotted him in a corner, muttering to himself as he browsed through a thick book.

Harry turned his confused eyes back to Remus, "Why are you guys here?"

"I am afraid that I'll have to interrupt you there, we do not have all day," Scrimgeour's voice rang out, a hint of impatience tinting it.

Remus leaned closer, "A support of sorts, Harry," he whispered before straightening up.

With his eyebrows slightly narrowed, the suspicious boy turned to the Minister. "Will you please tell me what I'm doing here?" not bothering much that it was far from polite.

"Yes, of course," Scrimgeour answered and rose from his desk. "Come with me."

"Scrimgeour, shouldn't we explain the situation to Harry first?" Remus asked, casting a concerned glance at the black haired boy.

The Minister snorted. "Nonsense! I do not have time for such things, as you know I have a meeting soon." And then followed Alastor, who'd disappeared without Harry's knowledge, out of the office.

Giving a sigh, Remus turned to him. "Come on then, Harry." He laid his hand on Harry's right shoulder and squeezed it in a consoled manner before they followed Alastor and Scrimgeour.

Harry didn't say anything, but walked beside Remus as question after question began bombarding his mind. He didn't try to ask anything, he wouldn't have been able anyway; his thoughts were a mess by now.

The only thing he was dead sure on was that it couldn't be good.

---

"No! Absolutely no!"

"Harry, you need to understand –"

"Don't you 'Harry' me! Don't you fucking 'Harry' me, Scrimgeour! I told you that I refused to help you with any of this!" Harry roared, spit flying.

The Minister narrowed his eyes. "You can not walk away from your duties."

Gaping at the wizard before him, Harry was quiet for a second before exploding, "Duties!" he gave a too loud and almost insane laugh, "I killed Voldemort! What more do you want from me? I've given my whole life to that duty, I don't fucking own the world anything else!"

"Voldemort will not be completely destroyed until the last horocrux is, you know this. Therefore your duty is not yet finished," Scrimgeour was practically sneering at him now. "You will agree to this, you do not have a choice in the matter."

Harry was breathing heavily by now, his face red from anger.

The Minister turned to the other occupants in the room, "Excuse me Alastor, Lupin I believe that I have a meeting to attend to. Lupin, explain the details to Mr. Potter."

He swept out of the room.

As soon as he was gone Remus embraced the young boy, because at seventeen years old he was still young. "Harry, please you need to know why it has to be you."

Harry let out a frustrated sound and balled his hands into fists. "I can't do this."

"Harry," Remus said gently, "we've been trying to pry the information out of him for two weeks now but no progress has been made. You know this is extremely important, locating the last horocrux will mean that Voldemort will have no chance to return. Ever, as far as we know."

He forced Harry's eyes up to look at him. "He has lost his memory, Harry. He doesn't remember anything about the war, his parents or even Hogwarts." To Harry's surprise Remus eyes shone with compassion. "He doesn't remember himself." His gaze bored itself into the black haired boy, who wanted to close his eyes to the intensive eyes. "He only remembers you."

The former Gryffindor swallowed and stepped away from Remus, "I won't be able to do it Remus." He looked into Remus sad eyes. "I'll kill him."

To his surprise the werewolf smiled gently. "No you won't, Harry. You're not the kind."

"I killed Voldemort," Harry muttered, the anger he'd unleashed before gone.

"I know, but there's a big different between killing and murdering." He lifted Harry's chin, "You, Harry, are not a murderer."

Closing his eyes, Harry let out a tired breath. "Care to tell me the details?" he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

Remus smiled. "Of course, Harry." But his sad eyes betrayed the gentle smile on his lips.

Harry saw neither of them.

---

The room was quiet, the news absorbed and the reasons behind it looked upon.

"He only remembers you?"

Harry signed. "Basically yes, but no, he does remember magic but no spell. He remembers how to speak, walk and such elementary stuff but he doesn't remember any people, "He let out a humourless laugh, "he doesn't even remember Voldemort." He let his head drop into his hands. "He only remembers me."

"Wow, Harry," Hermione muttered, "You must've made quite an impression on him."

Harry snorted.

"I'm serious," she told him. "Malfoy has obviously been the target of a spell, maybe 'Oblivate', but they don't know do they?"

"No," Harry answered, "they only know that he can't remember anything.

"People who loose their memory only remember basic things, things that are so deeply imprinted in their minds that nothing that we know of can take that away from them; such as walking, speaking, and magic. He doesn't remember his parents, but he does remember you."

She leaned back into her pillows. "Something isn't right about that."

Ron sighed and spoke for the first time in a long while. "Nothing's right about any of this."

"You're sure right about that, mate," Harry said, still with his head in his hands. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want to be involved again, not like before. I've given my life to that stuff, it has to end."

"What if it doesn't, Harry," Hermione suddenly said. "What if the remaining Death Eaters manage to retrieve Voldemort again? What if Lucius Malfoy is the one to do it? What if the killing starts again?" Harry had raised his head during her speaking, and she looked directly into his eyes. "What if Malfoy knows how to prevent it?"

Ron smiled slightly, with a trace of sadness. "Think of it, Harry. By working with ferret face you might save the world," he gave a humourless chuckle, "again."

---

"I'll do it."

Remus smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry."

He just looked at him. "How will I take him home?"

"Alastor and I will escort you to your apartment. We will also put up wards so that he cannot escape."

"Great," Harry muttered, "just great."

---

He turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, "Get in," he growled at the blond boy, slamming the door shut as soon as Malfoy got inside.

He stared at the Slytherin for a moment, giving a smirk at the boy's lost look. "Now listen," he growled in the same manner, "you are to stay here for five months, during which you are to recover from your fucking memory loss, give us the information we need and then you are going straight to Azkaban, or hell for all I care.

"I am not your friend and I have no idea why you only remember my name but it's not because you like me, we hate each other. I hate you, Malfoy." The blond boy swallowed.

Harry carried on, "You are to stay here during the five months, you can't leave this place because if you try the ministry will notice it immediately and then it's probably back to this shit again or directly to Azkaban."

Malfoy murmured something, Harry didn't hear it. "You can be in every room here, use the kitchen and the bathroom to your liking, but don't ever enter my bedroom. Ever, Malfoy. Because if you do I won't hesitate to throw you out, and then it's no choice but to go to prison." His voice was harsh.

Malfoy nodded, barely moving. His head turned down.

"You can sleep on the couch, I'll bring some blankets." He looked the shorter boy over, a sneer grazing his face. Malfoy was still wearing the same dirty robe as he had during the battle two weeks ago. "Just take a bloody shower before you do anything, you smell like shit."

Harry turned on his heels and went into his bedroom, snatching some worn clothes and a towel from his wardrobe. When he reappeared again he found Malfoy standing in the same spot where he'd left him, his posture radiating insecurity

He thrust the clothes into Malfoy's arms, a little too much added force, making Malfoy stumble backwards. "Wear these and throw away the rags you're wearing." He eyed one of the many holes in the black, now almost grey robe. "You can find shampoo in the bathroom."

And with that Harry went back into his bedroom, came out again with a blanket and a pillow, threw them on the sofa and then left the apartment, once again slamming the door.

For a moment ice blue eyes watched the closed door, before returning to the clothes in his arms.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before feeling the worn fabric of the soft clothes; he then brought them up to his face and smelled them. They smelled just like that other boy, this 'Potter'. He didn't know who he was, but he knew now that the black haired boy hated him. He must've done something terrible to bring forth such hate.

Hugging the cloths closer to his body, Draco Malfoy made his way into the bathroom, the door giving a soft 'click' as he locked it.

End of Chapter 2


End file.
